Yesterday at breakfast I said to Iris, “So, what should we have for dinner tonight?”

“How about something from The New Steak?” she said, glancing at the bookshelf. Ah, _The New Steak,_ repository of deliciousness.

We decided on flank steak marinated with shallots and sherry vinegar and served with sauteed mushrooms and roasted potatoes. I changed the recipe in two ways: they were out of flank steak at QFC, so I substituted rib eye (poor us), and instead of making the potato gratin from the book, I just roasted some ruby crescent fingerlings in olive oil.

To make the plate look fancy, I arranged potatoes around the rim, mounded sauteed creminis in the middle, and put sliced steak on top of the mushrooms. Then I sprinkled everything with Maldon sea salt and served it up. The sherry vinegar marinade gave the steak just a hint of acidity that brought everything together, and the potatoes were nice and crunchy. (For fingerlings in general, halve them lengthwise, toss with oil and salt, place cut-side down on a sheet pan and roast 1 hour at 375°F.)

It’s not (just) that I’m trying to pimp my Amazon links, but have you noticed that _The New Steak_ is only $13.50? That’s less than you spent last time you bought steak, right?

So, I know you read the New York Times article, 6 Food Mistakes Parents Make. Whenever I read an article like this, I think, “Hey, I should comment on this article.” Then I think, “Wait, why does anyone care what I think about this article?” Then I think, “Hey, I have a blog. Posting my opinion, asked for or not, is what it’s all about.” By that time several days have gone by and it’s too late. What is the opposite of intrepid reporting?

But last night Laurie had an insight about this part of the article:

> **Giving up too soon.** Ms. Worobey said she has often heard parents say, “My kid would never eat that.” While it may be true right now, she noted that eating preferences often change. So parents should keep preparing a variety of healthful foods and putting them on the table, even if a child refuses to take a bite. In young children, it may take 10 or more attempts over several months to introduce a food.

I’ve criticized this advice before on the basis that it doesn’t work: you can’t mold your children’s tastes, and I’ve served Brussels sprouts dozens and dozens of times (and will again tonight) and Iris just doesn’t like them. Which is fine.

That’s not the problem, though. The problem is, *it doesn’t make any sense.* I don’t serve Brussels sprouts regularly because I want to make Iris like them. I serve them because Laurie and I like them. “Don’t give up too soon,” says the article, but what does “giving up” mean? Not serving Brussels sprouts any more? Serving them but telling Iris she can’t have any?

“They should just say, ‘Serve food you like,'” said Laurie. I agree.

An update on the Amster-Burton gardening situation.

The fundamentals of our garden are strong and we do not require a federal bailout at this time. Our cherry tomato plant, which came to us a 12-inch weakling, has grown into a shaky colossus. It sprawls against the wall like a group of drunks sleeping it off. Unlike a bunch of drunks, it has produced over a hundred tomatoes, some of which are even ripe, sweet, and juicy. I think Iris even ate one.

The cilantro bolted. This is not a bad thing. Last week, Iris had a friend over and announced that it was time to gather cilantro seeds. Each girl took a cilantro plant and stripped it bare, and now we have a container of homegrown coriander seed. The lettuce has also bolted and just started producing fuzzy yellow flowers. Maybe there will be some seeds there, too, although I have no idea how to gather lettuce seeds.

The lettuce was probably the biggest hit. It produced enough salads that next year we’re going to grow four pots of lettuce, maybe two or three different varieties, and this should keep us in salad all summer. I’ve turned into kind of a salad person; my usual formula continues to be lettuce, thinly sliced onion, sherry vinaigrette, and add-ins in the form of croutons, bacon, blue cheese, or nuts (usually pecans). Sherry vinegar is so great; I never get tired of it. Look for Don Bruno brand, which sells for $5 around here. I just had to restock and couldn’t find it, so I bought El Majuelo in a big bottle for $12. It looks a lot like the big bottle of maple syrup I just got at Trader Joe’s. Hopefully I won’t mix them up.

Is there anything I should be planting right now? I have a bunch of empty pots (well, full of bolting or dead plants) and some extra potting soil. I was thinking about shallots, but I’m too cheap to order shallot bulbs for an experiment.

Today on Serious Eats:

Cooking With Kids: Amelia Bedelia Gives Advice on Baby Food

> With few exceptions, mashed-up adult food is perfect for babies. It’s nutritious, fun, and easy, and you don’t have to prepare separate meals.

> Sometimes I go on and on as if I invented this idea. Then something will come along to remind me that I’m about as original as a financial planner telling clients not to spend so much on lattes. This time around, it was Amelia Bedelia.

Let’s talk about knives. Again.

As I said in my review of Chad Ward’s An Edge in the Kitchen:

> First, I’m going to chuck my medium-gauge honing steel, which Chad says is junk, and get a ceramic steel.

> Second, I’m going to change the way I grip the handle of my knife. I’ve been using this Henckels 4-Star 8-inch chef’s knife for twelve years, and I’ve always held it the same way: gripping the handle with a fist. Even though I knew chefs didn’t hold their knives this way, I justified it by saying that I have small hands. It’s true, I do have small hands, but I know five-foot-zero female chefs who certainly don’t use the baby-silverware hold like I do.

Done and done, and I’m delighted with the results in both cases. Along with the ceramic steel I got a little eraser to take knife marks off the steel. This is Iris’s job, and she loves it.

The rest of my knife adventures have led me down a much murkier road. I haven’t severed anything yet, but I have had to rethink everything I knew about knives, and now you are going to come down this lonely, philosophical road with me.

(Can a road be philosophical?)

My Henckels 4-Star is currently sitting in the closet, replaced by a pair of sleek newcomers. First, I purchased the Ryusen Damascus santoku, impossibly beautiful and sharp, at [Epicurean Edge](http://www.epicedge.com/). Then I ordered a Togiharu Molybdenum gyuto from Korin.com, because I’m writing an article about knives and wanted to see what the cheapest ($62 shipped) mail-order Japanese knife would be like. (My article about buying knives is starting to feel a lot like Lynne Spears’ parenting book.)

Buying these knives has totally messed up my brain. And it’s not like I wasn’t warned, by commenter Thom:

> If you can, hold off on buying a gyutou; especially one with an ubersteel (Tojiro uses Sandvik 19C27 hardened to RC59-61 – clearly a gateway drug as that’s an ubersteel). Addiction to gyutou is very expensive. Very, very expensive and only gets worse.

Tell me about it, Thom. Until a few weeks ago, I had never thought about buying a new knife. I figured the Henckels and I would be kitchen buddies forever. Now I have two sharp new friends. Each, in its own way, is definitely better than the Henckels. They’re both sharper and will stay sharp longer. The Togiharu is amazingly light (about an ounce lighter than the Henckels, despite having a slightly longer blade). They’re better-looking. And overall, I’d have to say I’m much less happy with my knives than I was before.

Coincidentally, I’m rereading Daniel Gilbert’s book Stumbling on Happiness. He’s got my number:

> When we start shopping for a new pair of sunglasses, we naturally contrast the hip, stylish ones in the store with the old, outdated ones that are sitting on our noses. So we buy the new ones and stick the old ones in a drawer. But after just a few days of wearing our new sunglasses we stop comparing them with the old pair, and–well, what do you know? The delight that the comparison produced evaporates.

Learning about a better version of something you already own is often bad news. So now I have these two new knives. The shorter one is sharper, prettier, and more comfortable. But the longer one is lighter and, well, longer. Coming from an 8-inch knife, the santoku often feels too short. Now instead of reaching for my one do-all knife, I face a decision every time I reach into the drawer. Decisions are no fun. Couldn’t I solve everything by buying a new knife that would really bring it all together? Brains, beauty, long walks on the cutting board?

Maybe, but which one? How much do I want to spend? If I like an 8-inch knife, should I try a 9.5-inch one? Maybe something with a traditional wooden handle, like this? *Does it really matter what knife you use, at all?*

Of course it does. Right? You can’t use a big cleaver to do all your chopping…unless you’re one of the hundreds of millions of Chinese cooks who do exactly that. How about a dull 5-inch utility knife? I’ve seen plenty of people use such a thing to prepare a delicious meal.

What about no knife at all? Pepperoni pizza and farro salad with seared shrimp come to mind.

See what I mean about my brain? Basically, I started out thinking I’d tell the world about how to choose the best knife, and now I’m wondering whether any knife is better than any other, and where and when my own knife quest should end.

So I want to turn it over to you. Tell me about your knife. How long have you had it and what do you like about it? I’m not here to judge; I want to hear about real cutlery diversity, and I especially want to know if you use something other than a chef’s knife as your main tool.

Oh, it would be a shame to end this post without a link to the knife Iris said I should get. Luckily, only one was made and it’s already sold.

Mr. Itou Custom Santoku, $400.